Definition of Death
by Avararda
Summary: A man will find himself in the first of this series. What really makes him a man? Read on.


I guess I should begin from the beginning. The very beginning, before I even met Drew. Who's Drew? You'll see. We all see. I'll give you a little introduction to who I am, just so you get the gist of things.

I'm nineteen years old, a year after this whole ordeal. My name is Lance Jethrow. I graduated high school with hopes of joining the military. So much for that. My parents hated the idea anyway. Other than that, I led a pretty normal life before things. I had a little brother, my parents were living happily ever after, even my dog was enjoying things. I couldn't really complain about anything.

But of course, you want to know about all the stuff that happened before this, right? Well, here goes.

_One year before..._

I just recently got my license. I know, it's bad that I'm eighteen years old and I just got my license. My friends have been telling me this for what seems like forever, but at least I'm driving now. It's not a bad car, either; I always admired Mistubishis, and the money I saved up bought me a nice Lancer Evolution. I can't say I'm disappointed.

The breeze is nice, so I rolled down the windows. Air came flowing in like an calm river. The night seemed to welcome me; the stars were perfect. They twinkled in the dark sky like mini beacons, waiting eternally for me to approach them. One of them sends a ray of light into my car, striking the groceries in the passenger seats. I hold on to the eggs my mother asked me to buy as I pull up the stoplight right before my street. The red signal seems to take forever to change, so I glance around, looking for something to occupy my time as I wait.

Out the window to my left, I see a man waiting on the corner of the street. It appears that he wants to cross the road, but suddenly he turns his bald head, his gaze perfectly matching mine. I know that he cannot see me through the dark tinted windows, but his watchful glare is still unnerving.

A bellow from behind me brought my senses back. The light was now green and the car in front had long gone. I sheepishly let off the brake and added some acceleration, turning into my street. I was only just shaking the strange man out of my head as I pulled into my garage. I grabbed the groceries, locked the car, and stepped inside the house.

A pleasant aroma immediately filled my nose. I recognized it as my mother's excellent lasagna. She was famous for it, as far as my family goes. I love her cooking, and to add insult to injury, I cannot cook to save my life. I shuffled into the kitchen area, my dog tagging along with a big grin on her face. Setting down the groceries, I approached my mother.

"Hey mom. Smells great, just like always," I said.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my son?" she questioned, layering the response with a joking sarcasm. I smiled at the remark, moving around to the tray of lasagna. I cut a square for myself along with a fork and advanced towards my room.

Upon opening the door, I was met with a large gust of cold air. I paused for a second to locate the offender. It was the window; my mom must have opened it. I set the plate of dinner on my bed, moving to close the window and block the chilly wind.

As I placed my hand on the edge of the window, I noticed a shadow crossing the street. For a brief second, I saw in my head the man I started at when I was stopped at the stoplight. My eyes grew in disbelief. I slammed the window shut, using much more force than needed. I didn't believe it still as slid on my sweatshirt and opened the door to go outside.

It was later now, so it was becoming colder. The icy chill nipped at me, even through my faded jeans and thick shirt. I checked carefully for any 'visitors', but in vain. I dismissed it as an illusion, caused by fatigue from today's schoolwork. I went back inside, closing the door and making sure it was bolted shut.

"Everything OK?" I heard my mother inquire from the kitchen.

"Yeah," I mumbled, unsure of who I was convincing.


End file.
